e saw a dark paw lift
the sail-cloth. She might wake Sarah, but what was the use? She would only
scream, and that would do no good, and might do much harm. If it were a
bear, and they kept still, he might go away and leave them. Yet, if it
were a bear, Tom must know it in some way.

All these thoughts passed through Gypsy's mind in that one instant, while
she sat listening to the panting of the brute without.

Then she rose quickly and went on tiptoe to the tent-door. Her hand
trembled a little as she touched the canvas gently--so gently that it
scarcely stirred. She held her breath, she put her eye to the partition,
she looked out and saw----

Mr. Fisher's little black dog!

Tom was awakened by a long, merry laugh that rang out like a bell on the
still night air, and echoed through the forest. He thought Gypsy must be
having another fit of somnambulism, and Sarah jumped up, with a scream,
and asked if it wasn't an Indian.

The night passed without further adventure, and the morning sun woke the
girls by peering in at a hole in the tent-roof, and making a little round
golden fleck, that danced across their eyelids until they opened.

They were scarcely dressed, when Tom's voice, with a spice of mischief in
it, called Gypsy from outside. The girls hurried out, and there he sat
with Mr. Hallam, before a crackling fire over which some large fresh trout
were frying in Indian meal.

"Oh, why didn't you let us go, too?" said Gypsy.

"We took the time while you were asleep, on purpose," said Tom, in his
provoking fashion. "Nobody can do any fishing while girls are round."

"Tom doesn't deserve any for that speech," said Mr. Hallam, smiling; "and
I shall have to tell of him. It happens that I caught the fish while a
certain young gentleman was dreaming."

"O--oh, Tom! Well; but, Mr. Hallam, can't we go fishing to-day?"

"To be sure, you can."

"How long do you suppose you'll stand it?--girls always give out in half
an hour."

"I'll stand it as long as you will, sir!"

Tom whistled.

The trout were done to that indescribable luscious point of brown
crispness, and the breakfast was, if possible, better than the supper.

After breakfast, they started on a fishing excursion down the gorge. It
was a perfect day. It seemed to the girls that no winds from the valley
were ever so sweet and pure as those winds, and no lowland sunshine so
golden. The brook foamed and bubbled down its steep, rocky bed, splashed
up jets